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Monday, February 22, 2010

Regrets

When I was in basic training, I lied. It's something that to this day I think on and regret, despite that all worked out in the end. It was a simple enough lie, more of a lie of omission than an outright lie. When we returned from survival training, I could not find my whistle, which had been issued to us. Everyone else had theirs, but I could not find mine. So I told the training cadet whose name had no vowels that I lost it and she went apesh*t and that was that. Until I was getting out of my uniform and found my whistle. I still shake my head at it all. It was around my neck the whole time, under both the uniform outer layer and the t-shirt.

That is not what I regret (though I did and do feel pretty stupid that I searched all my bags and pockets but the darn thing was around my neck the whole time!).

What I regret is not turning that whistle in. I hid it in my security drawer until they announced they would do an inspection of our security drawers. I wish I could say that I turned it in then. Or that I kept it, brought it home with me, and...I don't know, passed it on to a junior cadet.

But I can't. I made the stupid decision to toss the whistle in the garbage.

Yes. I lied by never turning it in. I guess I also committed some other thing by tossing it...loss of government property I suppose.

I regret that I was young and afraid of getting yelled at by the training cadet with no vowels in her last name.

Do you find yourself ruminating over past mistakes that are pretty small in the scheme of things?

2 comments:

When I was in third grade, I threw away the sandwich my mom had packed me for lunch. It was nasty. One of the sixth grade girls monitoring the lunch room pulled it out of the trash and screamed "Who wasted this whole sandwich?" I didn't move, didn't say a word. And then I didn't sleep for three days. I was so scared they would do forensic testing on my sandwich to determine its owner. On day four, I broke down crying and confessed to my mom. The incident is so burned in my memory, I can still see the lunch room.

When I was in third grade, I threw away the sandwich my mom had packed me for lunch. It was nasty. One of the sixth grade girls monitoring the lunch room pulled it out of the trash and screamed "Who wasted this whole sandwich?" I didn't move, didn't say a word. And then I didn't sleep for three days. I was so scared they would do forensic testing on my sandwich to determine its owner. On day four, I broke down crying and confessed to my mom. The incident is so burned in my memory, I can still see the lunch room.